She likes to Sing
by Austen2388
Summary: Starfleet's Chorale Ensemble invites you to Fundraiser Nights at the Soil-Side Bar. Spock does not usually go in for these types of social events, but she had asked that he attend.As illogical as it was, he always wanted to say yes to her.
1. Prologue: An Invitation

**Disclaimer: I do not own and I do not profit. I am just a fan. **

**A/N: This is my first foray into Star Trek fanfiction. I used to write Harry Potter fanfic exclusively, and I haven't written in years. So any constructive criticism will be helpful. I hope you enjoy, thanks.**

Spock studied the thin, holographic flyer that Cadet Uhura had placed into his hand, his face betraying nothing of the internal debate going on inside his head.

STARFLEET'S CHORALE ENSEMBLE & STUDENT MUSICIAN ASSOCIATION'S

FUNDRAISER NIGHTS

JOIN US ON THE 2ND FRIDAY OF EVERY MONTH FOR A NIGHT OF CLASSIC MUSIC AT THE SOIL-SIDE BAR.

2 CREDIT DONATION AT THE DOOR WILL BENEFIT REFITTING THE AUDITORIUM WITH ACOUSTICAL IMPROVEMENTS.

He knew it was illogical to be debating whether or not to attend the fundraiser at all; he had already made plans to play chess with Lieutenant Commander Roth this evening. But Cadet Uhura had asked him to attend. As illogical as it was, Spock found himself wanting to say yes whenever she asked for anything.

"So will I see you tonight, Commander?"

Spock finally drew his eyes away from the flyer. There was something intimate about the Cadet's question that made his human side nervous, causing his Vulcan side to clamp down immediately. "No," he responded, perhaps too quickly as he watched the Cadet's eyes drop from his face to stare at the floor.

Was that disappointment?

Feeling the need to fill the awkward silence if only for the sake of his human companion, Spock said, "I have a prior engagement this evening, but I will consider attending next month's performance."

"Well," she smiled up at him, brown eyes crinkling around the corners as they met his own, "I will just have to remind you sooner then, before your social calendar fills up."

She was teasing him. He was beginning to get used to this. "I will not forget."

That statement pleased the Cadet; her smile widened. A warm sensation boiled up deep within him, longing to break free.

"Have a good weekend, Commander."

"And you, as well, Cadet." She nodded and turned toward the double doors at the end of the now deserted hallway. "Cadet," he called. She turned halfway towards him, her high ponytail swaying with the movement, a posture that brought vivid memories to his mind.

* * *

"STARFLEET. STARFLEET. STARFLEET-,"

Spock could hear Cadet Stevenson chanting above the tumultuous applause and boos from the audience. The auditorium had erupted when Starfleet Academy was declared the winner of the Oxford Linguistics Invitational. The commander carefully picked his way through the sea of bodies to reach his students still standing excitedly on the stage. Even the normally composed, Cadet Uhura had abandoned her headphones and was hugging another teammate.

As he approached, the students began encircling him, chatting excitedly and slapping him on the back and shoulders. None of his disapproval at being treated thus showed on his face.

"Thanks, Commander. We wouldn't have been able to beat MIT without you!"

"Coolest Vulcan ever!"

"STARFLEET !" Stevenson continued to chant, pumping his arm into the air.

It finally occurred to one of his students that it was time to go celebrate, and, in a flurry of agreement, the crowd moved away as quickly as they had surrounded him, like waves on a beach. Cadet Uhura stopped halfway up the steps of the auditorium and turned back to look at him still standing on the stage, her ponytail swaying with the abrupt movement.

"Aren't you coming, Commander?"

As usual, she looked him directly in the eye. He noticed that they were glistening with excitement at the moment, and he wondered briefly if his were as blank as her's were expressive. An unfamiliar warming sensation boiled up deep within himself, urging him to say yes.

"Yes," he decided almost spontaneously, arguing that logic dictated, that as their chaperone, he keep an eye on the students.

But logic was all but forgotten when his reply was answered with a smile from Cadet Uhura; the warm feeling growing stronger as they hurried to catch up with the others.

* * *

"Cadet," he called. She turned halfway towards him, her high ponytail swaying with the movement. "It is customary for humans to wish a person good luck before a performance. I choose to honor that tradition in this situation."

Uhura tilted her head, and chuckled a little. "Thank you, Spock," she nodded and turned away.

"No thanks required, Nyota," he said quietly to her retreating back.


	2. Chapter 1: Such a fine girl

**Disclaimer: I do not own and I do not profit. Star Trek belongs to Paramount; the song "Brandy" belongs to Looking Glass and the song "Hallelujah" belongs to Jeff Buckley. **

**A/N: Here is a proper length chapter for you all.**

"Are you as cold as I am?" Uhura said as Spock joined her outside of the pub.

"Unlikely," Spock replied, "the Vulcan body temperature is generally warmer than that of humans, Cadet."

The way that Uhura was staring at him from the corner of her eye suggested that he had just made another social faux pas. "That was not what you meant by your question?"

"No," Uhura chuckled and shook her head, her ponytail swooshed against her down coat with the movement. "I was wondering if the environmental temperature was too low for your comfort."

"Yes," Spock replied. Indeed, Oxford in March was quite uncomfortable, but the pub was loud and all the packed bodies made it unreasonably moist. When he saw Cadet Uhura leave through the front door, he decided to follow her since there was no one else worth speaking to.

She surveyed him over her mug of warmed cider. "It seems illogical to stand out here then."

"Indeed," Spock said because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

She smiled playfully. "I thought Vulcans didn't do anything illogical."

"Ah," he said, building his argument in his head as he sat down on the cobblestone curb beside her, "my choice to come outside is entirely logical if you assume the correct parameters."

"Which are?" She prompted.

"Well, I found the pub was too loud and … sticky… for my personal comfort, as well as being devoid of stimulating conversation. Thus, I came outside."

"And did you find some 'stimulating conversation', Commander?"

"Yes, I believe I have."

Uhura beamed at him, and he stared back, repressing the need to move closer to her that suddenly rose up inside of him. The effort and the cold caused him to shiver slightly.

Uhura's keen eyes caught the act immediately, which for some reason made her grin before she took in his appearance. Her smile dropped immediately.

"Where is your coat?" She asked abruptly and loudly.

"Vulcans do not need coats; I use Biocontrol methods to decrease my discomfort in this inhospitable climate."

Uhura rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards the pub. Gesturing with the mug in her other hand, she said, "We're going to get you one of these, Commander-"

"Spock," he interrupted her. "In informal settings, please call me Spock."

"Spock," she echoed softly, before dropping his hand. "Call me Nyota then," she demanded lightly with a nod. And with that she spun on her heel and walked back into the noisy pub.

"Nyota," Spock repeated before following her in.

* * *

Spock generously donated five credits to the student representative at the door that night. The commander had attended many concerts at Starfleet's auditorium and had lamented the outdated acoustics.

Though he had tried to prepare himself for the noise, the stink, and the stickiness through meditation before leaving his apartment, Spock was still taken slightly off guard when he entered the Soil-Side. He had been in bars_-a bar_-before, but this one was larger and roomier than the pub in Oxford. The ceiling was quite high, and there was a balcony type area on a second floor. Underneath this was the bar itself. The smell of fried food emanated from the door to the kitchen located behind it. Besides the stools, there was a rather eclectic collection of tables and chairs, and in the front was a raised platform. The platform was what surprised him the most. Because the flyer Uhura had given him had mentioned the Chorale Ensemble, he assumed that the singing would be done in the traditional choral style. But apparently, they were going for a more informal style for only a few students, singers and musicians, would come up on stage at a time to sing renditions of classic Earth favorites.

He carefully forced his way through the laughing bodies, his portable chess set tucked under his arm, till he found Lt. Commander Roth sitting at a table towards the back, away from the stage.

When Spock had returned to his quarters after turning down Uhura's request to come to the fundraiser, it was to find a message beeping impatiently for his attention. It was Lt. Commander Roth informing him that he would have to cancel his chess date with Spock because his captain, the Chorale Ensemble's advisor, had ordered her subordinates to attend. Spock instantly jumped at the chance to please Uhura by acquiescing to her request and still play chess; he called Roth back and told him that he would bring a portable chess set along to the bar and that they could play there.

"Have you eaten yet?" Roth inquired by way of greeting as Spock sat across from him. After many years spent playing chess together, the wry Lt. Commander had given up using most of the human social formalities on Spock.

"No," he replied, " someone told me that the food here was not disagreeable, and I find myself amenable to trying it." Uhura had told him that the food here was "not that bad" as part of her spiel to convince him to come.

"Adventurous," Roth said, passing Spock a grease-stained menu. Spock raised an eyebrow in response.

He surveyed the menu carefully, making as little progress if the menu had been written in Tellarite. Finally, he asked his friend if there was anything vegetarian on the menu.

Roth laughed, and said, "Sure there is. There's mozzarella sticks, gorgonzola French fries with truffle oil, spinach and artichoke dip, onion rings, sweet potato fries, and nachos."

"Anything not fried?"

"Try the nachos. They're good."

"Indeed," Spock replied, not quite convinced. He ordered them anyway, and he studied the mound of corn chips, melted cheese, lettuce, avocado, sour cream and salsa before warily setting aside the utensils he held, knowing that they would be useless, and picking up a nacho to try.

Nachos were agreeable to the palate, he inwardly admitted. He was after all, a 26 year-old half-human male.

"They're pretty good, aren't they?" his friend mused aloud indicating the students on the stage and awaking Spock from his nacho reverie.

Until that moment, Spock had not noticed the music at all above the ambient noise of the bar. But he turned his head in time to see a group of male cadets finish a bluegrass song.

"They appear to be proficient with their instruments," he answered the Lt. Commander.

The students bowed as they finished their song and walked off the platform to loud applause and catcalls. A smaller trio of students quickly replaced them, and Spock recognized Uhura as she seated herself at a harp. Another cadet seated herself at a piano, and the male, who appeared to lead this group, sat on a stool with a guitar. He began strumming a plaintiff, sorrowful tune. The harp and piano joined him as his strumming became steadier.

"Well, I heard there was a secret chord that David played…" the male cadet began to sing, but Spock wasn't paying attention. His eyes were on Uhura.

She had changed out of her red cadet's uniform and boots into a black dress with a silver Starfleet emblem embroidered into the high collar. She wore her river of straight hair down and it flowed over her arms as she caressed the harp strings during a short solo. Her brown eyes were intently focused on the instrument while she played and a small crease formed between her brows.

When the song ended, the male cadet interrupted the applause to make an announcement. "Before leaving, I would just like to thank Cadet Uhura for filling in for my harpist at the last minute. She did an amazing job, so give her an extra round of applause before she takes the stage with Starfleet's finest ladies."

Uhura noticeably blushed and gave a small bow at the polite applause and more than one wolf whistle. Spock stared at one of the cadets making the rude noise, who straightened up and fell silent immediately.

"Keeping the kids in check, Spock?"

"Indeed," Spock replied as the music started up again. There were several more musicians, some of them clutching brass instruments, on the stage now and three more women besides Uhura.

Spock was intrigued when Uhura stepped forward and began crooning an upbeat song in a sultry, powerful voice that filled the room. She sang with great strength of feeling. The song told a story of a woman in love with a sailor who had chosen the sea over her, and Uhura's facial and body movements did much to convey the meaning of the lyrics. Spock marveled at her astute ability to gauge an audience; many people in Starfleet considered themselves sailors of sorts, married to the stars the way ancient sailors were to the oceans. To put it shortly, the song was a hit.

"…Brandy used to watch his eyes when he told his sailor's story…" she sang, her voice growing louder with emotion as she closed her eyes. "She could feel the ocean fall and rise, she saw its raging glory…" Uhura opened her eyes again and scanned the audience, her eyes finally settling on Spock. A smile spread across her lips as she continued to sing that caused the warm feeling to stir within him again. She shifted her focus, and Spock felt an irrational longing to have it back again.

He wondered momentarily if the lyrics had been directed at him at all, but quickly pushed the thought aside. It had only been one night months ago that he had opened up and told her of his life on Vulcan. Her human memory had probably already forgotten the encounter.

* * *

Uhura sat across from him, curled up in a large leather armchair by the wood-burning fireplace in the small pub. It was still crowded and noisy, but they had found this quiet corner after Uhura had ordered two more warmed ciders from the bar. They had attempted to play chess, but, after quickly losing, Uhura had lost interest in the game. They began to talk, about the Academy, about her course load, his own hefty workload, and then about politics and cultures until Spock found himself revealing more about his life on Vulcan.

Uhura watched his face as he spoke, her delicate hands wrapped around the mug. She appeared serene, but her eyes danced in the firelight, appearing to reflect the hot sun and wind whipped sands of the desert planet. Realizing he had been dominating the conversation, Spock began to ask her about her life in Africa. At first she shrugged and seemed reluctant, saying that her own past wasn't nearly as interesting. He pressed out of genuine curiosity, and she began to reminisce with alacrity about her favorite tropical hideaways, the refreshing taste of tropical fruits that she would scramble up the trees to pick, the way she would love to lay on the sandy beaches at night with her sisters, to listen to the ocean and watch the stars, and about the sparse beauty of the savanna.

He found her _fascinating_.


	3. Chapter 2: Can't Resist Her

**Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek. Weezer owns the song "Only in Dreams". I own nothing.  
**

**A/N: I am updating this, because a few typos and deviations from characterization were brought to my attention. Big thanks to redflowercactus and AtanaM for drawing my attention to these. Hope you enjoy, please read and review.**

After Uhura finished her song, she stepped back into the line of backup singers, and another woman took their shot at glory. Spock felt his interest in the concert rapidly dwindle.

"Shall we play?" he asked his companion, as the waitress cleared away his empty tray of nachos. Spock was already pulling out the chess set, and expanding the joints to the tri-level board before his companion even answered.

Soon, the board had been constructed, the pieces placed in their proper positions, and the game underway. He found chess engrossing enough that he did not notice the music, except for when his finely tuned ears could pick up the faint sound of Uhura's voice as she sang in harmony with the other backup singers. At these moments, he would steal a look towards the stage, see her move her body in the swaying, synchronized motions of the other singers. But, it was the look on her face that intrigued him. Now that she was out of the spotlight, her features relaxed into a smile that made Spock think she was enjoying something that he could not see, or touch, or hear. Her eyes shone with the innocent excitement of blissful contentment. It was the same look she wore when she thought she was alone in the Xenolinguistics lab, her hands gracefully flying over her PADD as she translated obscure messages from the stars.

It occurred to Spock then that Cadet Uhura took great pleasure from singing, not because of the attention it brought her but for her own personal contentment. As humans would say, it made her happy. She _liked_ to sing.

He had previously been unaware that she enjoyed anything as much as linguistics, and he was fascinated by the happiness she gleaned from the activity, as illogical as happiness was.

"Spock!" Lt. Commander Roth rapt sharply on the tabletop pulling Spock from his thoughts. "Working out some kind of complex algorithm?" he asked.

"Yes," Spock replied, knowing Roth was not serious in his question. His embarrassing lapse of attention was soon made moot, as Spock managed to put his companion into checkmate with his next move. He cautiously stole another look towards the stage while Roth cursed in frustration. But Uhura was no longer there; instead she was determinedly walking towards the table where he sat and, just as determinedly, not looking at him. Spock wondered at her intentions since it would be uncouth for her to approach two ranking officers so boldly, especially since she knew only one of them. At the last moment, however, she veered to the left heading towards the bar. As she passed directly behind Roth, she flicked her eyes onto Spock's own for half a second without slowing or stopping her pace.

"Excuse me," Spock told his companion rather abruptly as he stood. It was illogical, but somehow he just knew that Uhura had meant for him to follow her.

He appreciated her discretion. As he had been witness to at the pub in Oxford last March, other young women her age were not as creative when it came to luring men to them. Spock then blushed, only a slight tinge of green rose to the tips of his pointed ears, but his whole body heated with the thought of Cadet Uhura attempting to seduce him. Which was utterly ridiculous and totally illogical; the Cadet was not trying to seduce him. Yet memories of that night in Oxford came unbidden to his mind.

* * *

"Ur-hura," Cadet Sh' Bes slurred in a childish voice as she stumbled towards Uhura and Spock by the fireplace. She dragged a slovenly looking local boy behind her by the wrist. Their conversation interrupted, Uhura turned in her chair to watch her teammate approach.

When Sh' Bes finally noticed Spock, she made a futile attempt at snapping to attention, "Oh, hi, Commander."

"As you were, Cadet."

"Thanks," she said and turned towards Uhura. Slumping over the leather armrest, she asked in what she doubtlessly thought was a quiet whisper, "Do you have a hair tie I can borrow?" This was followed by a fit of giggles.

Observing the other girls short haircut, Uhura started to ask "Why-" when Sh'Bes made an exaggerated wink.

"Sure, fine," Uhura sighed with some hidden meaning that Spock was utterly clueless about as she handed over the elastic that was on her wrist. The cadet had freed her hair from the ponytail she wore it in a little over an hour ago; the process of shaking and pulling her hair out of its usual shape had quite intrigued Spock. "But not too long, ok?" She called over her shoulder as a tipsy cadet made her way up to Uhura and hers shared hotel room, the boy in tow.

There was quiet between Spock and Uhura for a moment.

Finally, Spock voiced his musings. "Why would Cadet Sh'Bes require your elastic hair device when her hair is not of an adequate length to warrant it?"

"Oh," Uhura stirred, pulling her head closer into her shoulders. An action that caused her hair to cover her face and shield her from the heat of the fire and his gaze.

"Is the fire too warm for your comfort, Cadet?" he asked, thinking it was physical discomfort causing her odd behavior.

"No, no," she responded and blushed deeper in a way that let even socially inept Spock know that she was mortified that he had noticed her discomfort. "The hair tie…sometimes if a young woman wants to have a …personal…friend at their room and if they share that room with another person then it is considered …polite…to hang a hair tie outside of the door to let their roommate know."

Spock hoped his impassive face did not show his discomfort, as he gathered the truth from Uhura's own fidgeting as much as her vague words. It was not as though human sexual habits discomfited him usually; indeed, Vulcan mating practices were far more disconcerting. It was Nyota speaking about them to him that he found awkward. He chalked this up to this not being a proper course of discussion between a professor and student.

Nyota turned to stare out the window at the misty Oxford street. Spock continued to ponder the " hair tie situation."

"Nyota," he finally spoke aloud. She turned to look at him, eyes heavy with tiredness. "Has the increasingly obsolete nature of the doorknob affected the logistics of the hair tie communiqué between young women in anyway?"

Cadet Uhura burst into loud laughter, much to Spock's befuddlement.

* * *

Nyota was leaning over the bar, speaking to the bartender when he approached her.

"Jack on the rocks," he heard her order. The bartender turned to fill a small crystal glass with ice over which he poured quite a lot of amber colored alcohol.

The bartender was staring at Spock, who was standing upright next to the bar facing Uhura.

"Water," he ordered without looking at the menu.

The bartender continued to stare. "Really?"

Spock just cocked his head confused at why the bartender would think he was lying.

"Really." Uhura answered for him. The bartender disappointedly poured Spock a glass of ice water, and slid it across the bar towards him.

A moment of silence passed between them as the bartender moved on to other patrons, allowing the music to reach their ears.

"You can't resist her, she's in your bones…" someone sang to a slow, steady beat. Uhura looked at him expectedly, but Spock, not knowing what to say, did the Vulcan thing and remained silent.

" I wasn't expecting you to come tonight, Commander," she finally said.

"There was a change of plans," Spock replied. The pair fell into silence once again.

"You can't avoid her, she's in the air…in between molecules of oxygen and carbon dioxide…"

"I did not know that you played an instrument, Cadet," he stated. "I found your solo on the harp to be proficiently executed."

Uhura raised an eyebrow, mirroring his favorite mode of expression. "Thanks."

Spock nodded. More silence ensued. Uhura seemed to be expecting something of him, though he did not know what and he found that this made conversation difficult.

"I play the Vulcan lyre," he spoke suddenly.

Uhura's face lit up in surprise. "Oh," she exclaimed, "I have a few recordings of songs on the Vulcan lyre and I've always been fascinated by it though I've never even seen one."

" I have mine in my quarters; since you have expressed an interest, I will show it to you sometime."

"Do you want to show me now?" Uhura asked, her voice dropping an octave as she stepped closer to him, invading his personal space. He did not step away; he did not want to. She raised her eyes to his and he maintained the contact.

"Yes," he replied. Uhura nodded slightly and moved past him towards the exit. Spock turned to follow her into the September night.

Once out of the bar, shrouded in the safety of the dark campus, their conversation flowed easily, the way it did when they were in his office. As the aid for his Advanced Phonology course, she brought warmth to the room with her lively, humorous banter. Spock even found her silent presence, as she diligently completed the tasks assigned to her, comforting rather than awkward. He was also finding the class's grades were improving slightly, as the students, during the laboratory sections, were far more willing to approach Uhura for help than himself.

_She has quickly made herself an indispensable asset to me,_ Spock thought as he strummed the last notes of a traditional Vulcan song on the lyre. They were sitting on the couch in his apartment. Nyota had pulled her knees up onto the seat as she sat facing him; her black kitten heels lay abandoned on the floor. Her watchful brown eyes followed his fingers intently while he played, but now they were trained on his face, sparkling with curiosity.

"That was lovely, Spock," she breathed. While the word choice and phrasing uncannily reminded him of his mother, her tone was utterly new and stimulating.

"Thank you."

Uhura opened her mouth to say something and then closed it. She bit her bottom lip in a most intriguing fashion, before attempting to speak again. "Can I…may I try?" she asked, gesturing toward the lyre.

Spock held the delicate instrument out to her. Uhura gingerly took it into her arms, and tried to imitate the way Spock had held it. She was slightly off in the positioning of her hands, so he leaned across the couch to adjust them. The warm feeling that had been vying for his attention that entire evening rose to the surface upon contact with her. Spock reluctantly pulled his hands away.

Uhura strummed a few notes that came out off key. She frowned and looked at him questioning.

"Your hands moved from their proper positions when you reached for the far string," he noted. "May I?" he asked as he moved behind her, leaning over to adjust her hands. He kept her hands covered with his as he guided them over the strings. After finishing a basic scale, Uhura looked up at him smiling, She was close enough that he could feel her breath against his chin. Though his Vulcan half was telling him to drop her hands, he could not bring himself to do so.

Though silent, Nyota's eyes were asking him for something, and, astoundingly, he knew the answer to her unspoken request. Spock leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

Spock woke with a start for the first time since he was a small child. He looked around the room briefly, but there was no sign of Nyota anywhere, or any clue that she had ever been in his quarters at all. But his bizarre dream had been vivid enough to fool his brain into thinking that the lyre lesson and the kiss had been real. A surge of emotion threatened to break through his control as he recalled the actual events of the previous night.

* * *

"I play the Vulcan lyre," he spoke suddenly.

Uhura's face lit up in surprise. "Oh," she exclaimed, "I have a few recordings of songs on the Vulcan lyre and I've always been fascinated by it though I've never even seen one."

" I have mine in my quarters; since you have expressed an interest, I will show it to you sometime."

Uhura smiled, "I would greatly appreciate that, Commander." Silence again.

"…But when we wake, it's all been erased. And so it seems, only in dreams…"

It seemed that being in a casual setting like the Soil-Side with so many of their peers around them was seriously impeding their social interaction. Ease of conversation was being sacrificed for maintaining their status as commander and cadet.

The cadet must have been thinking along the same lines as he, because she suggested that they go take a walk outside to get away from the noise and to get some fresh air.

Once again Spock found himself wanting to acquiesce but, remembering Lt. Commander Roth, declined. "I should return to my chess game"

Uhura shrugged, but did not look at him. "I won't keep you any longer then, Commander." Spock nodded and began to move back towards his table when he felt a delicate hand grasp his arm. "Thank you for coming tonight, Spock," Nyota said as he turned back to look at her.

"No gratitude is required, Cadet, but, as humans say, it was 'no problem'." She grinned at him, causing the warm feeling to simmer contentedly. She removed her hand from his arm and he returned to his chess game.

Spock rose from bed the next morning to meditate away two familiar emotions from his childhood: disappointment and loneliness.


	4. Chapter 3: Falling Stupid for You

**Disclaimer: I do not own. I do not profit. The song is "Stupid for You" by Marie Digby.**

Spock stood next to a post in the crowded Soil-Side bar, his hands clasped behind his back, as was his custom. His eyes were searching through the sea of students and officers for table, but they were all occupied. The first fundraiser night a month ago had been a success, and apparently word had spread because bodies continued to stream into the bar. Spock was growing uncomfortable amidst the chaotic noise of friends' greeting and conversing, orders being called out to the waitresses, and raucous laughter.

The volume of the room lowered, though by no means ceased, as the first group of students made their way up to the stage to whistles and some applause. Nyota was not among them, so Spock let his gaze return to table searching only to find a small blonde woman standing close in front of him and smiling. He blinked; it was his only outward sign of consternation at her sudden presence.

"Spock," she said in an intimate fashion that he had never invited, "it has been awhile."

"Lieutenant Kolami." He replied with a curt nod. He supposed it was appropriate that she call him by his first name, as they were colleagues of sorts – mere acquaintances really. But he was uncomfortable by how she had invited herself to do so, how close she chose to stand next to him, and how she always seemed to go out of her way to make conversation with him when he would rather maintain his distance.

"_Leila,_ Spock, call me Leila," she chided him and playfully slapped his upper arm.

Leila Kolami was a Starfleet botanist who had found living on starship difficult to deal with and had been reassigned to the upkeep of the Academy's flora. She was a small woman with blue eyes and a head of thick, soft blonde hair. While curious and knowledgeable about a great deal of plant life, Spock found that she was passive about most other topics with a tendency towards flightiness and sentimentality. Despite her daydreamer exterior, Spock predicted that her darker half was manipulative. This combined with her dull conversation and lack of assertiveness made her disagreeable to Spock, who was now attempting to calculate the best escape from this situation as Leila continued to babble at him.

The first group of students finished their set, and Spock saw Uhura and her group make their way up to the stage. Catching on to the direction of his gaze, Leila turned away from him toward the stage. Nyota stepped forward to begin her song.

"It's not everyday that I meet a person quite like you…" Nyota sang sweetly to the lighthearted tune.

Leila let out a squeal of recognition effectively drowning out Nyota's voice, as she dreamily leaned against the same post Spock was standing next to. Her new position placed her directly in front of him, close enough that his front was touching her back. "I love this song, " she sighed and turned her head to look back at him.

She was way too close. Spock knew she had moved this into this position on purpose; her advancements towards him were obvious and distasteful. Spock tried to step backward, but bumped into someone. The same happened when he attempted to step to the side. Meditation was his next choice, but he did not want to miss Nyota's song.

"I've finally found the nerve to confess that its you that I want…" Uhura sang her eyes searching the crowd until they settled on Spock's, grinning for a moment before Spock swore he saw them narrow. He looked down and saw that Leila had twisted her head around to smile at him again. Spock remembered the dream he had about kissing Nyota and realized that the position he was standing in with Leila must appear intimate.

"I think the song if quite fitting, don't you?" she asked breathily. While Spock's Vulcan half disapproved of this woman's behavior, his human side was annoyed that she would interpret Nyota's song for her own ends. Yet, the warm embers within him were stoked by the sudden thought that maybe Nyota also found this song fitting for the occasion.

"So don't keep me hanging here 'cause this girl is falling stupid for you…"

Was she attempting to communicate with him through her music? Wishful thinking or not, the glowing embers burst into flame and his heart began to beat rapidly within his chest.

* * *

"Hey, Sir," the middle-aged man called from behind the counter in a heavy British accent. "We're closing up for the night."

Spock brought his gaze up from the dying flames in the fireplace to nod at the bartender in acknowledgement. He rose from the leather armchair he had spent the evening in talking to Nyota, who had been sound asleep in her own seat for the last 93.7 minutes. They had stayed up talking, while waiting for the boy her roommate had brought up with her to come back down the staircase. Overcome by the exhaustion of travel and the tournament, Nyota's head finally drooped onto the wide armrest, as she lay curled up like a cat in the overly large chair. Her facial features relaxed and her breathing evened out, and Spock knew she was asleep. He became the sentry for the boy, the sign that it was appropriate for Nyota to reenter her hotel room. But now the pub was closing, and they needed to leave.

"Nyota," he said quietly standing in front of her chair.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him. "Did whats-his-face come down yet?" she asked sleepily.

"No, but the bar is closing, we have to go," he replied.

Nyota groaned and nodded yes in response. She stood, but stumbled suddenly. Spock caught her by her upper arms.

"Thanks," she said, "my leg's asleep."

Spock nodded and let her go. His mother had often used the term "asleep" to refer to the numbness and tingling that occurred when there was inadequate circulation to the extremities. It was likely the Cadet had meant to use the term the same way his mother had.

The pair moved toward the staircase. Uhura winced as she took ungainly steps on her uncooperative leg. Attempting to prevent another fall, Spock kept his hand close to the small of her back, not touching, but ready to grab her in case she lost her balance again. Towards the top of the staircase, Nyota let out a gasp of shock as she slipped, throwing her hand out to catch his shoulder. Spock gripped her tightly around the waist to keep her from falling down the stairs.

"You're safe." He told her as she stared up at him, brown eyes wide like the saucer of a starship. Though he had not asked her a question, she nodded slowly before looking away. He kept his grip on her waist as they finished climbing the stairs.

* * *

"The proper thing to do is for me to act like a lady and wait for you to make the first move. But I don't think you're getting the point…" Nyota sang, her eyes still searching to room but now she seemed to avoid his gaze for the duration of the song.

When Nyota's song ended, Spock went into a light meditative state by concentrating on the aromatic compounds that floated throughout the odorous room. He envisioned each molecule, identified and classified it by the number of double bonds in their carbon rings. This technique effectively allowed him to ignore Kolami, while it kept him aware enough of the room that, if Nyota approached him as she did at the previous concert, he would notice any signal from her.

But she never did approach him after her group finished their set. As the room shifted and patrons began to trickle out, Spock left his meditative state, unceremoniously bid Kolami adieu, and left the bar contemplating the events of the evening.

* * *

The following Thursday, Spock made his way down the hallway of the communications building to his office connected to the Xenolinguistics lab. The sun had not fully made its way into the sky yet as it was his plan to begin writing the midterm for his Advanced Phonology class early today. He keyed in the code to unlock the door and walked into his dark office. The light clicked on automatically as he moved to his desk. He paused, however, as his observant mind took in many out of place details. The first was that, Cadet Uhura's mug of tea from the night before was still on her desk in the far corner. He had seen her place it there before she went into the lab to work on an assignment of hers. Her book bag was still on the floor with her red jacket hung neatly over the back of her chair. He had come in through the door that led to the hallway, but he turned now and saw that the laboratory door was still open. He peered into the lab and saw Nyota asleep at the same station she had been working at when he had left his office the night before. Her listening device still in place, her head lolled to toward the right as her chest steadily rose and fell. The stylus in her right hand threatened to drop to the floor. Spock watched her sleep for a moment, before moving into the lab to wake her.

"Nyota," he said quietly standing in front of her chair.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him. "Spock?" she questioned, obviously confused about her surroundings.

Ignoring the inarticulate manner of her question, Spock nodded. "You are in the Xenolinguistics lab; it is currently 0533 hours."

The information caused Uhura to react as though a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her head. A string of multilingual expletives left her mouth, as she jumped up from her seat, perhaps a little too fast as she swayed and almost fell. Spock caught her by the upper arm and kept her upright.

"Thanks, Commander," she said. Spock was close enough to her that he could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks. He released his grip, and she moved away to collect her things. A thought occurred to him as he followed her back into his office.

"Cadet Uhura, it would appear that you have broken the promise you made me last night before I retired to my quarters."

Nyota looked up at him confused for a moment before her face broke out into a coquettish grin. "And what promise was that, Commander?"

"You gave me your word that you would eat dinner before going back to your dormitory. Since you and your belongings were in the same position that they were when I left, I ascertain that you never left and therefore did not eat."

"Your assumption is correct, Sir," she said coyly, a hint of challenge in her voice. "I will stop at the mess hall now before returning to my dormitory."

"Ah, Cadet," Spock said, allowing his logical argument to push him past his zone of social comfort. " That is practically verbatim the promise you made to me last night. As recent events have shown, I cannot trust you to take of yourself. Therefore, it is logical that I come with you and confirm your intake of sustenance. Though, I foresee a complication."

Nyota was smiling at him in the must delightful, exuberant way. "And what is that, Sir?"

"The mess hall does not open until 0700 hours."

Nyota dismissed his worries with a small shake of her head, "No problem, Commander. I know the perfect place."

As they walked down the front steps of the building, Nyota turned to Spock with a playful look on her face. "Commander," she piped up, "forgive the personal intrusion, but who was that blonde woman hitting on you at the bar last Friday?"

"I do not recall being the victim of violent behavior last Friday, Cadet."

Nyota's laughter rang through the silent campus.

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews everyone. I've tried to incorporate more of the Trek-verse into this story. The character, Leila Kolami, was in an episode of the original series called This Side of Paradise (Season 1: 24). You can go to hulu or cbs and find all the episodes there. Spock's meditation technique was inspired by the book Starfleet Academy: Collision Course by William Shatner ****(giggles). It's a really fun novel actually. Well, I hope you liked this chapter. Until next time.**


	5. Chapter 4: Breaking the Iron Mold

**Disclaimer: I do not own. I do not profit. The song is "I Won't Disagree" by Kate Voegele.**

**A/N: Parts of this chapter were inspired by TOS and the book "Spock's World" by Diane Duane. A good book, check it out. This is one of the funnest chapters to write; I hope you enjoy it. Please, read and review.  
**

"The usual," Nyota ordered, handing the waitress the plastic menu.

Spock asked for the oatmeal, fresh fruit, and tea as he had been doing every Thursday morning for the past month. He glanced across their customary booth at Nyota, noticing her face looked dry and tired. No doubt this was the effect of the approaching winter and semester finals. She was still resplendent, however, and he was having a difficult time of not staring as she licked her lips, chapped from the harsh November air. Neither of them did well with the cold, and neither of them would have chosen to live in San Francisco if it weren't for Starfleet. That was one of the many things he had learned about her during their early Thursday morning breakfasts at a local diner off campus.

Though the cadet had since refrained from sleeping in the Xenolinguistics laboratory, she had insisted that she wake up early on Thursday mornings to join him for breakfast. She argued that she had managed to accomplish so much that fateful first day that she should rise early every Thursday to keep ahead of her classes. And, because breakfast had been such a nourishing and stimulating excursion, that they should continue to do so every Thursday as well. Spock had agreed. Soon he had found himself spending an exorbitant amount of time dwelling on Thursday mornings, both past and future. It was unsettling, but he was unwilling or unable to give up breakfast with Nyota, when her conversation was so intriguing, her laughter so tonally pleasing, and her presence so aesthetically agreeable in the dreary, grey autumn.

The waitress approaching with his tea and Nyota's coffee pulled Spock from his thoughts. The couple thanked the woman, and Nyota gave a small contented sigh as she pulled the warm mug into her hands, breathing in the aroma and allowing it to settle over her. It was one of the moments Spock would replay over again in his office later that day. Nyota managed to find contentment is such minute details, that Spock had a difficult time imagining her ever being unhappy or bored like so many other humans. This spoke to an inner resilience that seemed to radiate from within her, and he basked in its glow. Eventually, Nyota would set the mug down on the table and add cream and sugar to the brown liquid before drinking it, but for a minute or two she was at peace just holding the beverage and wistfully contemplating some mystery that Spock knew nothing about. But, he was content in that moment to sit silently in her presence and ponder her thoughts. He considered how easy it would be to pretend to accidentally brush her hand as he reached for the sugar- hypothetically, a highly uncharacteristic action since he did not sweeten his tea-just to gain a quick reading on her state of mind, but that would be an invasion of her privacy. She valued his privacy, never asked him to divulge any information that he did not wish to share-though he found himself divulging more anyway- and so he would respect hers.

"So," she piped up, smirking and pulling her half down hair over her right shoulder so that it spilled over and flowed down her chest as she brought her bright gaze to his, "how did you sleep last night?" She asked this question every Thursday morning.

Apparently, this was a polite inquiry that humans made of each other as a way of gauging another's mood, much like asking the equally imprecise question "how are you?" though it rested on the assumption that the other person experienced as much variation of quality in their sleeping time as in their waking hours. Spock, who was given to answering questions literally, had told the cadet that he slept horizontally, much like she, as a human, would, flat on his back with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes closed. He refrained from telling her that he usually slept naked; Vulcans found that there was little logic in having entire sets of clothing for sleeping when one was not engaged in any activity that would be helped by the presence of such items (though, it was a possibility that one may be engaged in activities that would be hindered by clothing). Spock quickly subdued this train of thought when he noticed the incredulous expression on Nyota's face, though the green blush that had enflamed the tips of his ears at his unruly thoughts only intensified under her stare.

"You're funny," Nyota had finally said that first morning, stirring her coffee. Satisfied that her beverage was well mixed, she had brought the cup to her lips, and with a coy grin stated," I bet you sleep naked, too."

Spock was quite certain his cheeks had flushed green as he clutched his own mug. But four Thursday's later, Spock simply stated that he slept as he did every night, though a wave of warmth spread through his body as she asked. Her question and his response was becoming a usual part of their breakfasts together, just like Nyota's two eggs, bacon and toast and his oatmeal and fruit. It was a pleasant routine, an inside joke. Spock blinked in surprise at the realization, he had never been part of an inside joke before. _Fascinating_.

* * *

"Well, don't be shy, I've got an open heart in here. And I just might have to confess just where I stand…"

Fascinated, perhaps mesmerized, was the state in which Spock found himself in as he listened to Nyota sing the following evening. Her voice, soulful and heartfelt, resonated through the room and reverberated in his ears. This was quite possibly her best performance yet; she sang with the confidence of past successes, but it was the way the song emanated from within her that kept Spock's eyes glued to her form. While she physically stayed front and center, stepping side to side at times to the beat, her arms moved in exaggerated gestures of longing.

"Cause lately you make me weaker in the knees, and you race through my veins, Baby, every time you're close to me…"

Passion was the word that floated into Spock's mind as he watched her perform from his table in the front. The corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly at the remembrance.

* * *

Spock thought it was unnecessarily cautious and inefficient to have to fill out a requisite work order for something as simple as a screw to a desk chair, but regulations said he must. The height adjustment function on Cadet Uhura's desk chair had ceased to work, causing her to complain of backaches as she worked hunched over her desk. So, after he had finished with his other tasks the previous evening, Spock had taken the chair apart, deduced and corrected the problem quickly. However, as he was putting the chair back together again, he found that one of the screws that held the seat in place had rolled away and mysteriously disappeared.

He was requesting that a new screw be sent to replace the one that had gone missing the following morning, when the door to his office suddenly swooshed opened and admitted Cadet Uhura. A normal occurrence for a Friday morning, except that today Nyota was covered in various shades of brown, cream, and green slime. It oozed down her hair, dripped onto her shoulders, and soaked through her sweater. Spock stopped typing and stared at her, a wave a sugary smells reaching him as she slammed her book bag onto the desk. Spock was forcibly reminded of a time when, angry with his father, his mother had lamented that none of the doors were capable of slamming. She had told his inquisitive young self that the loud noise was cathartic.

The therapeutic slamming process over, Uhura stood still, not looking at him, and seemingly grinding her teeth. The cadet was quite obviously, furious.

"Is that pudding, Cadet Uhura?" Spock finally asked, breaking the silence as he deduced from the color scheme, smell, and texture what covered the cadet's usually pristine visage. She did not answer. "Was there an accident at the mess hall?"

This sparked a change. "Was there an accident at the mess hall," Uhura railed, her raised voice filling every corner of the room. If it weren't for his Vulcan self-control, Spock would have jumped, and then winced at the sudden change in volume. "No, no, no…this was no accident," she seethed, wiping pistachio pudding from her forehead. "This, this was Kirk, that lazy, arrogant, pig-brained farm boy, sheep fu-" Nyota continued on this streak for quite sometime, pacing back and forth across the office, making elaborate and often rude hand gestures, and mixing languages as it pleased her. From this, Spock discovered that a Cadet Kirk and some other command track students were plotting pranks against engineering and support departments. Today's had been balloons filled with pudding, launched from the roof of the linguistics building with two more units flanking from either side. It was a logistically successful attack plan; though Spock was less than pleased that Nyota had been at the center of it. Still, there was something amusing about her stomping around, pudding flying from her flailing arms, and the green stain on her backside when she turned. Somebody (probably, Kirk) had definitely aimed and fired true on that shot.

"I know you have extra clothes in here somewhere, Commander," Nyota said, Spock barely catching the slight change in her voice as she addressed him because in the next half-second she continued to rage as she violently opened up the drawers and cupboards of his office. Finally, alighting on some PT gear, she grabbed that and stormed out of the office, huffing something about a womanizing snot-nosed mud fly as she left.

The sudden silence in the room was stifling. Spock had just turned back to typing his request, when Nyota came back, still raving about how her roommate was currently in the "throes of passion" which precluded the cadet from returning to her dormitory to change. Spock marveled at how Nyota was able to carry on a conversation after leaving the room as though she had never left. She continued to pace around the office, releasing years of pent up anger and frustration, her steps slightly inhibited by the trailing cuffs of his overly long sweat pants that she now wore.

Spock sat silently, acting as the sounding board that Uhura so obviously needed, with an arched brow and amused twinkle in his eyes, a very amused twinkle. He found her appearance entertaining. His t-shirt hung to just above her knee, the short sleeves far too wide around the biceps, revealing a glimpse of her trim torso when she raised her arms to the side in a gesture of frustration. His black regulation sweat pants ballooned around her legs, making her look shorter and squatter than she was. Added to all this, pudding was now beginning to dry and cake in her hair and on the side of her neck where she could not see it. Spock was beginning to see why humans enjoyed clowns so much. This was extremely amusing.

"Did you just chuckle?" Nyota asked suddenly, confusion in her voice, as she whipped around to face him.

"No," he lied quickly. _Did he really just chuckle? Did that deep, rumbling noise actually arise from him?_

"Yes, you did. You just chuckled," she argued awestruck. Before Spock could warn her, Nyota, heavy with astonishment, sat in her desk chair. Or rather placed her weight on the desk chair, causing the loose seat to fly with surprising force across the office. Nyota, startled after sitting on the hard metal support instead of a soft seat, lost her balance and her and the chair toppled over backwards, her feet flying over her body in the most ludicrous manner as she let out an alarmed high-pitched squeal.

Spock laughed. Undeniably, laughed. The whole event lasted for only .6 seconds, but it was enough time to undo Spock's practiced emotional control.

As he rose to help Nyota to her feet, the young commander quickly brought this highly inappropriate response under control, cutting the pleasantly deep, boisterous noise off prematurely. Still, the sound seemed to echo in the resulting silence.

Nyota, apparently still in shock from the turn-of-events, was not even angry with him. To his bemusement, she was grinning to herself as she grasped the hand he extended to help her to her feet.

The surge of emotion he picked up from her hand was new air to the fire that now burned constantly within him, causing it to cackle and pop delightedly. Feeling slightly light headed, he refused to look at her as he hastily terminated the contact, assigned the Cadet her tasks for the day, and left to meditate before his first class.

* * *

"Well, I've been told it's going to take an iron hand to break the mold…" Nyota's voice rang out, penetrating Spock's recollection.

He should be meditating _now_, after that embarrassing display of emotion earlier that day. Spock, however, felt drawn to Nyota, literally and figuratively. That is why he came to the concert tonight, and the reason why he had chosen a table closer to the stage, And though he had refused to look at her for the rest of the day, tonight his eyes drunk in every detail of her person, like a man receiving water after days in the desert. There was no logic to it, except for the logic of doing what was necessary. Apparently, seeing Nyota had become necessary.

"They say you've got a hold on me, yeah, and I won't disagree."

Spock approached her after she left the stage, privacy quite ironically gained amidst the chaos of the densely packed bar. "You sang well tonight, Nyota."

"Thanks, Spock." She smiled as she sipped a drink from a conical glass. "You know, it seems unfair that you've seen me perform several times now, and yet I still haven't heard you play the lyre yet."

Spock considered for a moment before responding. "Perhaps we can arrange to meet tomorrow at 1900 hours in my quarters if that is amenable to your schedule." He felt oddly nervous as he asked the question.

Nyota nodded and grinned. "It's a date."

Spock blinked.

With a tilt of her head and an even wider smile, Nyota laughed, "My schedule is amenable to your proposition."

"Until then, Cadet," Spock nodded as he turned to leave, planning on meditating until he was able to bring his emotions back under his control, even if it took most of the night.

"Bye, Spock," she called to him, and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward against his will.

"Computer," he commanded as he entered his apartment, "search cultural and sociological databases for human social interactions that reference the term 'date'."

"Working," the computer responded.


End file.
